


That One with the Idiosyncrasies

by Xyriath



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James T. Kirk is not an especially logical person.</p>
<p>He would never dare to rub off on Spock, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One with the Idiosyncrasies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gwynhafara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynhafara/gifts).



The periodic cheering continued to fill the halls of the Enterprise as Spock made his way carefully to the bridge.  Twice, he had to duck away from overexcited ensigns who were either too thrilled or too intoxicated to take the moment to reconsider that it might be a poor idea to attempt to catch their first officer in an embrace of some sort.

 

However, he reached his destination without incident, though he could not say the same about _after_ he reached his destination.

 

"Spock!" came the captain's voice, jubilant and nearly a crow of triumph, spinning in his chair to face Spock as he entered the room.  "Man of the hour!"

 

Spock pressed his lips together slightly in surprise, but inclined his head in acknowledgement.  "Thank you, Captain.  Though I must extend credit to the rest of the away team as well—"

 

"Well yeah, they did great too, but."  Jim rose from his chair and trotted over in Spock's direction, a grin on his face that lit up the room without even trying, and for a moment Spock allowed himself to be distracted by it, study it idly.  Throwing an arm around Spock's shoulders and turning to face the crew, Jim paused for what was presumably effect.  "Last time I checked, you were the one who stopped those pirates from getting their hands on those supplies—"

 

"While the rest of the crew transferred them; Captain, I honestly do not think—"

 

" _Singlehandedly_ , with nothing but your phaser and some brains—-"

 

"I would be a very poor officer were I not equipped with the latter—"

 

"And finished negotiations with the natives with way less hassle than Starfleet _ever_ thought we would manage.  Jesus, Spock, learn to take a compliment."  This last statement was finally directed at Spock, instead of the crew, who were all watching with expressions ranging from amused to impressed on their faces.

 

"I am perfectly capable of taking compliments; it is when you insist on this ridiculous posturing that I feel I must protest."

 

A squeeze of the arm around Spock's shoulder, less platonic than it could have been, but the rest of the crew pretended politely not to notice.  "Yeah, well, you did good, Spock."  Jim lifted his hand and angled slightly so that he could see him.  For a moment, Spock thought that he was about to give him the Vulcan salute, but his fingers were all pressed together, which was... confusing, to say the least.  He turned to face Jim and raise an eyebrow, and a fleeting expression of realization crossed Jim's face.  "Right, sorry."  As he dropped his hand, Spock suddenly recalled what he believed was termed a "high five," though he was unsure exactly of the context in which it should be utilized.  Presumably, in a celebratory or congratulatory fashion, but as it were, he preferred not to engage in such activities and was grateful that Jim had realized his mistake and chosen to abstain.  Tactless as he might be at times, Jim was at least quickly learning to remember certain considerations that often came up in their relationship.

 

"Okay, guys, shift over," Jim said as he dropped his arm from around Spock's shoulders, but not before briefly squeezing his bicep.  "Let's head out.  Hear they've already started the partying without us!"  He pointed at Spock, then in the direction of the door, grin still undiminished.

 

So Jim was to engage in these activities as well.  While Spock had initially thought that the celebration was simply for their mission's success, a brief conversation with Mister Scott had informed him that it was, in fact, the human holiday called "New Year's."  He was not unfamiliar with it, as he had spent a short amount of time on Earth.

 

"So," Jim continued as he exited the bridge with Spock.  "Hear the natives gave us some of their home brewed beer."

 

"I believe that the composition is closer to a combination of your wine and other stronger liquors than beer."

 

"But I've also heard it tastes fantastic, and they don't give it to offworlders.  Unless, well, you happen to have a certain Vulcan who does favors onboard."  He turned his head again to grin at Spock, and while the sight was a welcome one, his words caused Spock's eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

 

"I was not doing them a favor, Jim," he said, carefully tasting the name on his tongue.  It was still a novelty to him, being not only permitted to use the nickname but in a relationship with Jim that nearly required it.  "I was simply—"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know.  Doing your job.  Well, you did it great."  Jim sighed happily, reaching out to squeeze Spock's shoulder.  "You gonna party with us?"  When Spock opened his mouth, Jim interrupted.  "I know, I know, as a Vulcan," he began, doing what was actually a rather impressive imitation of Spock's own voice, "you do not partake in alcoholic beverages.  Well," Jim continued, voice (thankfully) resuming its normal tone.  "Doesn't mean you can't still party with us."

 

"Jim, I simply fail to see the logical purpose in celebrating a planet's full orbit around its sun.  Especially, as, as you know, it is not even an accurate timing of said orbit, failing to take into account the extra point two four two—"

 

"Remind me to tell you about leap years someday, Spock."  Before Spock could protest that he knew the purpose of a leap year, Jim grabbed his arm and tugged him to the side of the hallway, pressing his own back up against the wall and looking up at Spock.

 

"Does this mean you're not going to give me a New Year's kiss?"

 

Spock blinked, then glanced around.  This was rather improper, especially as they were out in public where _anyone_ could—

 

But Jim was looking up at him with an expression reminiscent of some furry domesticated Terran pet and while Spock found himself wondering what the logical purpose was behind it, he had to admit that it _did_ make him desire to acquiesce to Jim's request.

 

"This is a... tradition?"

 

Jim simply nodded, one side of his mouth curling up in a smirk.

 

"Very well then."  Spock hesitated, glancing around the corridor for a moment, then pressed his lips gently to Jim's.

 

It lasted only a few moments, but Jim returned it with enthusiasm while it did.  When Spock pulled away, feeling somewhat concerned at the breach in decorum, Jim simply sighed, the pleading expression replaced with one of fond resignation.  "Never mind, I'll get a proper one out of you later.  More than one."  Patting Spock's arm, he smirked at the faint green tinge spreading across his cheeks and headed back down the hall, whistling.  Spock cleared his throat and followed.

 

—

 

Vulcan emotions run deep.

 

He was certain that some of his Terran friends would scoff at this.  Not out of maliciousness, of course, but due to a lack of understanding that simply came from a superficial understanding of Vulcan culture.  But Spock knew better.

 

He could still remember the rage from all those months ago, not burning as was so typically described, but white hot to the point of iciness.  It hummed under his skin and filled his bones and prickled with every breath as he ran, chased the monster that had done all of this and would do far more if he were allowed to continue his actions unchecked.

 

These reasons for wanting to stop him were, of course, logical.  But none of that compared to the thought that would not leave his mind, the one that eclipsed all of the others and thudded in the forefront.  Perhaps it was a quality of his human blood that caused him to be unable to suppress his emotions as well as he would have liked, but right now he did not care.

 

This monster had killed Jim.

 

Logically, he had known that stopping Khan, that making him pay, would not bring Jim back.  Logically, he knew that his primary goals should be to save as many lives as possible.  Logically, he knew that Khan was not the one who had taken Jim's life.  That had been the Enterprise, broken and bleeding and precious to its captain, along with its crew.

 

But Spock did not care.

 

He had been unsure exactly what he was going to do when he caught the man—if he could even be called that—but Khan was going to forever regret the moment he had come out of cryogenic stasis.

 

Perhaps he was a poor example of a Vulcan for allowing himself to have been affected as such.  But it had been in those moments, encapsulated by fury and _despair_ that he found himself thinking that, perhaps, emotional responses of humans were not so ridiculous after all.  Right then, as shocking as his own thoughts and actions might have been to Spock, he understood.

 

—

 

Spock could not currently recall a time where he had been more grateful to hear the words "Beam us up" over the comm.  He leapt up from the Captain's chair perhaps more quickly than was proper, but he could not bring himself to be terribly concerned with that fact at the moment.  Much more important was making it to the transporter room as quickly as possible.

 

He inhaled deeply as the brilliant transporter beams faded, leaving a tired but otherwise healthy-looking Jim Kirk standing on one of the pads.  The rest of the party had arrived back safely as well, for which Spock of course was grateful, but he was slightly concerned with the tightness of his chest that had caught him by surprise when he saw the captain's form materialized.

 

"Spock.  Hey, good to see you."  Jim sounded worn, and Spock immediately began wondering what could have caused this.

 

"I am glad to see that you have arrived safely."  He glanced at the rest of the party to ensure that they were otherwise unharmed, but quickly turned back to Jim.  "We were quite concerned when we did not hear from you in longer than was expected."

 

"Yeah."  Jim's smile was slightly sheepish.  "The diplomacy, uh, didn't really go over that well.  They didn't get homicidal angry, but we did end up stranded in the middle of a dead zone without any of those whatchamacallums—the things that look like dinosaurs that they ride."

 

"I am familiar with the species."

 

"Yeah.  Well, so we had to trek all the way back."

 

Spock pressed his lips together and nodded curtly, swallowing.  The ache in the back of his throat was an annoyance, a distraction.  There was no logical reason to worry any longer.  The party was back, and Jim—all of them were fine.  But despite Spock's repetition of this fact to himself, the past several hours of radio silence, mixed with unwelcome thoughts of the notorious savagery of natives in this system, still circulated vividly in his mind.  And despite the fact that Jim was alive and well and standing in front of him, he could not clear his mind of the images it had conjured over that period, of Jim broken and bleeding or ill or savaged by some animal.

 

"Captain," he said quickly, perhaps spurred on by his frustration with himself, causing everyone present to look up.  "If I might have a word."

 

Jim frowned slightly, but nodded, and within a few moments the two were alone in a room, secluded from listening ears.

 

"Look, Spock, I know you're mad—"

 

"I am not angry," Spock interrupted.  "That would be illogical."  Of course, so was what he was experiencing right now.  "It was not your fault that you were rendered unable to communicate with the Enterprise when scheduled."

 

Jim just nodded, but before he could say anything, Spock continued.  "I would simply like to say that I... am glad to see that you are back unharmed."

 

Jim blinked up at him, blue eyes even more pronounced when set into that tired face.  When he did not respond, Spock continued, clearing his throat.  "I was... concerned for your well-being."

 

It took Jim a moment to process this before a slow smile curled around his lips.  Not mocking, but perhaps a bit amused and more than slightly touched.

 

"You were worried."

 

"Well, yes."

 

"You still are, kind of."

 

"I..."  The pause hung for several seconds.  "I do believe that I am."

 

"Isn't that illogical?"

 

Spock's immediate instinct was to retort with some form of protest, but he simply sighed.

 

There were times when these emotional responses confused even himself.

 

Instead of responding verbally, he leaned in, lifting a hand to cup the back of Jim's head before pressing their lips together.  Pulling back after several seconds, he met Jim's stunned eyes with his own.

 

"I am glad you are safe, Jim."

 

He perhaps allowed himself a small bit of satisfaction at the red flushing on Jim's cheeks, but for the moment, what held his attention was the smile spreading across his face as Jim reached up to take Spock's forearm, running his thumb gently over the wrist.


End file.
